


turning tides

by maguna_stxrk



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:27:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23836117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maguna_stxrk/pseuds/maguna_stxrk
Summary: “And you think Iaskedfor this?” Steve’s voice is breaking. Tony feels his heart plummet down to his stomach, panic rising in him. God, is Steve crying?  Whatever the fuck did he say that made him cry? Tony didn’t even say anything that waswrong.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 11
Kudos: 344





	turning tides

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr as a response to the following prompt: accidental love confession during a fight

When he wakes up, the first thing he sees is a mop of blond hair, the owner of which is seated in the visitor’s chair beside Tony’s bed, deep asleep with an arm pillowing his head.

Steve is back from his two-week-long, highly classified, solo mission. Tony missed him terribly. Steve is also still wearing his uniform, sans gloves and cowl, which is really weird. Surely he had time to change out of his uniform after the mission. What was the rush?

One of his hands is slipped into Tony’s. He obviously fell asleep with his hand holding Tony’s but his hold had loosened some time during his slumber. Tony resolutely ignores the way his heart flutters at the contact. 

Tony looks around the room. SHIELD medical, really? It isn’t like he is _dying._ At least, he doesn’t think he is. The last thing he remembers before this is the spinning sight of the workshop ceiling and the feeling of his forehead resting against the cool floor of the workshop. Then… nothing. 

Tony gazes at Steve, who has fallen asleep with his face tilted towards Tony, allowing Tony the rare privilege to indulge in his guilty pleasure of openly staring at Steve for as long as he wants to, getting his fill, at least until the guy wakes up. It’s probably a bit creepy, but sue him. He is in—

Tony pauses.

_Fuck it._ He has spent such a long time denying it to himself, it’s about time he admits it, at least in the safe and private confines of his mind.

_He is in love._

There, he said it. Thought of it. Whatever. It doesn’t terrify him whatsoever. Not even a little bit.

Tony studies Steve’s eyelashes closely, gentle adoration blooming in his chest. He has the longest eyelashes Tony has ever seen, like beautiful blond waterfalls, casting dark shadows on his cheeks. Those coupled with Steve’s baby blues are absolutely a sight to behold, which probably explains why Tony has trouble breathing every time he has Steve’s full attention on himself. The thrill that runs through him every time Steve looks at him is addictive, has him turning greedy. He wants Steve’s attention on him and only him at all times. Tony tilts his head to admire the curve of Steve’s lips better, slightly ajar in his sleep. He can’t help but smile at the sight. Steve looks so peaceful and innocent when he sleeps. Tony feels like he could look at him forever and never get bored, always finding new details to marvel at without fail.

Tony reaches out to trace the straight line of Steve’s nose with his finger when Steve stirs. Tony withdraws his hand quickly, like a child just about to touch a boiling hot kettle before being reprimanded. 

Steve’s eyes blink open slowly, squinting as they attempt to adjust to the light shining just above the bed. Tony watches silently, waits for Steve to find his bearings.

When Steve’s eyes finally meet Tony’s, they widen with surprise when he realizes that Tony is awake.

“Tony,” Steve says with an exhale, standing up from his seat, “you’re awake.”

“I am,” Tony confirms. Steve has extricated his hand from Tony’s in the process and Tony pretends that he doesn’t feel suddenly bereft at the loss of warmth.

Steve stands there for a few moments, taking the sight of Tony in. Then, his back straightens. His eyebrows start to furrow, the corners of his mouth tugged down, the features of his face rearranging themselves into a scowl. 

Tony braces himself mentally. He knows what’s coming. 

_Here we go again._

“I have told you, _countless of times,_ that you need to take better care of yourself, Tony.” Steve’s jaw clenches, his voice heavy with disappointment.

“Steve,” Tony sighs, leaning back into his pillow as he closes his eyes, “can we not? I don’t have the energy to argue with you right now.”

Steve’s chin juts out stubbornly, inhaling deeply through his nose. Tony recognizes all the signs: Steve is not backing down.

Steve raises his eyebrows, leveling him with a glare. “Then muster some.”

Oh. Steve is _angry_ angry.

First things first. “What happened?”

Tony has some inkling as to what might have happened, but it’s still good to know the details. 

“You passed out in the workshop out of exhaustion. Jarvis tripped the emergency alarm and the others brought you here. They told me just as my plane was landing,” Steve explains, his voice cold and clipped.

God, passing out due to exhaustion warrants a stay at SHIELD’s medical bay? What an overkill. Tony would like to stress _again,_ that he is _not_ dying. He just passed out from exhaustion and that can happen to anyone. _Not everyone’s a supersoldier, Steve._ Of course, since Tony values his life, he tries his best not to voice out his thoughts to Steve, who is still staring at Tony like he had insulted his mother.

“Alright. I’m fine now. I’m awake, see?” Tony gestures to himself with a smile. Steve’s expression remains stormy as ever. 

“You can’t keep doing this, Tony. When was the last time you ate anything? When was the last time you slept before you collapsed?”

The fact that Tony can’t seem to provide an answer for either of those questions is probably a bad sign.

“Why are you so dismissive of your own health? When are you going to learn to take proper care of yourself? _God,_ it’s like you _want_ to get sick,” Steve spits out, like the words had left a bad taste in his mouth, and that?

That has Tony’s hackles rising.

“Listen. I’m so fucking _tired_ of you picking fights with me, telling me how to live my life? I don’t get why you’re so pissed off about everything I do all the _fucking_ time. I can’t do anything right, can I? So I fainted, _big deal._ If Jarvis hadn’t tripped the alarm, I’m sure I would have come to eventually. I can just get some rest and then I’ll be fine. Why do you care so much? This had nothing to do with you. You weren’t the one who had to drag me to medical, anyway. Why are you so fucking worked up about it? I never asked for your concern, okay? I’m sorry if this event has inconvenienced you in some way.”

Steve drags in a sharp breath. His hands are curling into fists. His mouth is open and twisted in a way that suggests something like disbelief, his eyes turning red with tears. He lets out one long, shaky breath.

“And you think I _asked_ for this?” Steve’s voice is breaking. Tony feels his heart plummet down to his stomach, panic rising in him. God, is Steve crying? Whatever the fuck did he say that made him cry? Tony didn’t even say anything that was _wrong._

Steve grits his teeth. God, that is definitely a tear rolling down his cheek. His eyes stay wide open, glaring daggers at him like he is trying to end Tony’s life with the force of his stare alone.

“I never asked to go _insane_ with worry every time you get _sick,_ or miss a couple meals in a row, or go without sleep for days on end, or get _hurt_ doing something unbelievable reckless on the field.” Steve’s voice is trembling with barely restrained rage, rising in volume. Tony has never seen him so furious before.

“I’m _sorry_ , okay, Tony? I’m _sorry_ for caring about you. I’m _so_ _goddamn_ _sorry_ for being in _love_ with you but I don’t have a _choice_ about that!” Steve roars, but near the end his voice breaks down into a sob, and, and—

_What?_

Tony feels lightheaded. “...What?”

Steve is still standing there, tear tracks glistening on his cheeks, shoulders heaving up and down as he pants with exertion. He is still looking at Tony like Tony had personally ripped his heart into shreds, which—

Tony wasn’t even aware that he had Steve’s heart in his hands to begin with.

Tony swallows as he tries to wrap his head around this new, unbelievably absurd concept. Tony has always been in love with Steve. This is a fact. Not the other way around. Of course not.

_Steve is not in love with Tony._

Tony looks at Steve, who is now frozen, eyes still locked on Tony.

_Is he?_

“…Steve?” Tony asks, whisper-soft, and he loathes the sliver of hope that slips into that one syllable.

Steve staggers back reflexively, like Tony’s utterance of his name has a force so powerful it knocks him backwards. Then, he shakes his head, looking down at the floor.

_Ah, okay. See? There is no way Steve is in love with him. Tony must have mishear—_

“I’m sorry, Tony. This isn’t how I wanted you to find out. I mean— I knew that you must have… known, and you were just being nice about it, but… I never intended to bring it up. Please forget what I said,” Steve says to the floor, his voice sounding _distant_ and _polite_ and Tony absolutely _hates it._

“I didn’t know,” Tony blurts out.

That makes Steve look up, tentative and unsure. “You… didn’t?”

“Not a clue.”

Steve pauses. He lets out a sigh as he closes his eyes, bowing his head once again. His long eyelashes are wet with tears, Tony notes.

“Well, now you know. I’m sorry.”

There is a pregnant pause in the room, neither of them knowing what to do with this revelation.

And then, after what feels like eternity:

“Steve?” Tony calls.

Steve looks up.

“Come here for a second?”

Steve shuffles on his feet hesitantly, his fight or flight instinct coming into play. He looks like he is weighing paradoxical options in a battle fought within: that getting physically close to Tony right now is simultaneously a viscerally compelling and undeniable need and also the last thing he wants to do. Eventually, however, because he is Steve and Steve will always, _always_ be more lionhearted than Tony could ever hope to be, he approaches Tony with the air of a man accepting certain death. Once again, he finally finds himself back at Tony’s side.

_Where he belongs,_ Tony thinks, and something unfurls deep in his chest.

Tony looks up at him, his hand reaching up to gently wipe away the tear stains on Steve’s cheek. Steve is still looking at him like he’s a ticking time bomb.

Tony gathers all of his courage and takes a deep breath, looking straight into Steve’s impossibly blue eyes.

He bites the bullet.

“Kiss me.”

When Steve’s lips meet his, it feels a lot like coming home. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on Tumblr [@maguna-stxrk](https://maguna-stxrk.tumblr.com/) and let's talk all things stevetony! :)


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